At the corner of Mercer and Prince Streets, a Romanesque Revival warehouse built in 1890 by John Kellum's successor firm has carried more lives than most SoHo buildings — dry goods merchant, artists' studios, loft conversions — before Christian Liaigre transformed it into The Mercer in 1998. The French designer's approach was to work with the building's industrial bones rather than soften them: whitewashed brick columns anchor the lobby, travertine slabs cover the floors, and the celebrated library lounge visible in the images deploys floor-to-ceiling walnut shelving packed with art books and curated volumes arranged loosely by color, the seating a studied mix of navy leather sofas, Liaigre's signature ebonized side tables, and slipcovered armchairs that give the whole room the atmosphere of a private member's library rather than a hotel reception. The 75 rooms across six floors follow the same considered restraint — bleached maple headboards set into recessed niches, sisal carpet underfoot, leather banquettes beneath the original tall-paned windows, and pendant lamps in a scale borrowed from Scandinavian modernism. The bar downstairs shifts register entirely: a steel-topped counter, dark lacquered stools, exposed brick, and cobalt-backlit shelving give it the compressed energy of a serious drinking room. Throughout, Liaigre maintained a consistent material logic — dark-stained oak, pale stone, unlacquered brass — that has aged more gracefully than almost any hotel interior of its era.

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